


I Can Dream, Can’t I?

by partyclowns



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partyclowns/pseuds/partyclowns
Summary: Two sides of a seemingly one-sided love





	1. One

Nasty weather in Korea wasn't something that surprised anyone. The weather could get rather extreme in any season whether it be below freezing weather in winter that made things impossible to do without layers or triple-digit temperatures that led to pure laziness. Rain and even thunderstorms made appearances during the summer months, ignoring the war and the tens of thousands of men that came along with it.

Back at the MASH 4077th, the corpsmen and nurses rushed around to get the wounded inside before they had the chance to become ill from all the rain. Captain B.J. Hunnicutt was the first surgeon to scrub up and begin while his counterpart, Hawkeye Pierce, shouted orders. "This one's got a chest wound. Get him into OR now!"

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Corporal Klinger saluted and with the help of another man, got the man into the building. Hawkeye followed him in and quickly, yet thoroughly, washed his hands and scrubbed up.

The people most overlooked during this time were priests, the chaplains that sat in camp and through surgery just waiting to be called on. It, meant that the wounded man had died, and that added another reason for them to feel useless. Father Mulcahy often found himself struggling to keep up with everyone on the compound, having them ignore his advice and refusing his services every Sunday. It saddened him, even angered him, sometimes. 

Not only did he feel useless but he wasn't being recognized for his faith and how, at times, it helped connect with patients going through a rough patch. Because he wasn't a doctor or a corpsmen or a nurse no one seemed to pay attention to him. He understood that, and accepted it, though it made him doubt his beliefs at times. "What if I really am useless? was a thought that often crossed his mind. He couldn't showcase his work like a surgeon. The only evidence couldn't even be seen until after death!

There was one man that made him feel like he had a purpose. Captain Pierce. It made him uncomfortable at times how nice Hawkeye was to him, how his charms could work even on a priest, and how he could get away with anything because of how smooth he was with words. With just one sentence the surgeon could get out of any terrible situation. He took to comforting Father Mulcahy when he began to question everything and always succeeded in making him feel better.

As a priest, he should hate Hawkeye Pierce, but as a human he found himself enamored by the man. The surgeon was no saint and certainly was not pope material, but he meant well and had good morals. He stood in a middle-ground and left the Father confused about his own feelings. Especially because of the fact that his feelings were more than just friendly admiration. He liked Hawkeye—no, no, he loved Hawkeye. He denied them, he refused to acknowledge the feelings, but at the end of the day they were true. Father John Patrick Francis Mulcahy loved Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce.

He couldn't tell when the feeling started because he'd always admired the man. Maybe they started when he got the courage to crack risqué jokes in front of him, or maybe they were there, just less apparent, when they first met. He lived in shame because of these feelings, sometimes they even rendered him ill from the anxiety they induced. The thoughts that came to his mind were dirty, yet pleasurable to him. He didn't even truly know what pleasure was. He was a priest. A virgin, celibate priest. The last time he got close to another person was when he was twelve, playing spin-the-bottle with friends and the girl he liked. He strayed from those activities and moved on and now he regretted that decision.

"You know what my mom used to say about the rain, Father?" Hawkeye asked in between his asking for certain tools.

"No, but do go on, Captain," Francis looked at him with his signature puppy dog eyes. 

"She'd say that the angels were crying because someone special was born and that meant they weren't in Heaven anymore. She said it was raining the day I was born."

"I don't believe I've heard that one before," The priest smiled. It couldn't be seen through the mask he wore, but he did. "You are quite special, though, so it must be true."

"Enough of your childish stories and let me work in peace," Major Winchester eased himself into the conversation and ruined it in the process, but Hawkeye refused to back down.

"I think today they're crying because so many young men are going back." A silence filled the operating room. "They're all so young it's still unbelievable."

"Kelly clamp."

"Kelly."

"It's unusually quiet in here. You feelin' alright, Pierce?" The Colonel asked.

"Fine, just as dandy as I can be while operating on a kid who can't be anymore than eighteen years old."

"This isn't the time, nor the place, for politics, Pierce," Winchester spoke again in his posh accent. One that even annoyed Father Mulcahy. 

“We’re fighting to make a country free and censoring everything in our own, you know?” Hawkeye snarled. “Can I get a little suction?”

“Suction.”

“All I’m asking is that you keep it out of the operating room so I can focus.”

“Focus, schmocus.”

“Alright, you two. Time to quiet down,” Colonel Potter pulled his gloves off.

“Good news, everyone,” Klinger interrupted and got everyone’s attention. “no more wounded.”

“Alright, can you close for me?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Thanks, stop by my tent tonight and I’ll repay you,” He winked and left with Hunnicutt. 

Father Mulcahy followed and watched as the men took their scrubs off. He really didn’t have a reason to be around them, he just wanted to feel a little less alone. “I don’t think you should be entertaining any nurses, Hawk.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been sneezing nonstop. I told you not to stay out in the rain.”

“Are you sick, my Son?” Mulcahy pulled off his face mask. He mentally cringed at calling the man his son, but he did need to remain professional. His feelings couldn’t affect his work.

“No, I’m fine. Beej is just overreacting.”

“Hey, I know a cold when I see one.”

“Maybe you should take it easy. Just in case, Hawkeye.”

“Alright, but only for you, Father. Walk me to the Swamp, will ya?”

“Of course,” Francis smiled at the surgeon and walked close behind him. It was evident that the surgeon wasn’t feeling well. His stubbornness didn’t help his case, but they did say doctors were the worst patients of all. If Francis had to, he’d take care of him. It would make him feel useful and gave him an excuse to be around the man. 

Hawkeye, though he didn’t care to admit it, had feelings for the priest. The two always had a connection, like the saying that opposites attract. It was proven just by their interest in each other. He brushed them off as friendly feelings to make his life a little easier, but then again this wasn’t the first time he’d had feelings for a man. He was proud of his sexuality, even made jokes about it that no one took seriously and for that he was thankful. A blue discharge wouldn’t make his life any easier.

Ever since he was a boy he’d imagine himself with another man. Actors such as Valentino, Cary Grant, and Clark Gable swept him off his feet. Of course there were actresses too, but those men held a special place in his heart. His love for them was far more intense. He preferred men. He had his fair share of love with women such as Carlye, but they always left. Maybe it was because of his deep-rooted issues about the death of his mother, or his abandonment issues, or both. Men rarely let him down. 

Trapper did, though. Trapper left him without a proper goodbye. Hawkeye hated that about him, he could never say goodbye. Love overshadowed that hate. He couldn’t be hate the man he once loved, he still loved just in a different way. Just imagining the stupid smile Trapper always had on his face made him feel a little less angry at him. The anger lessened every day he spent with B.J. Hunnicutt, one of the best friends he’d ever had. He wasn’t a replacement, but just an improvement, and the two were only friends. B.J. did know about Hawkeye’s sexuality. They could trust each other enough to share such information and he didn’t let it change the way he saw him in any way.

He only wondered what Father Mulcahy would say if he knew what he thought of him.


	2. Two

Sitting on his cot, Hawkeye leaned back with a martini glass in hand. Alcohol was his solution to everything. Feeling homesick? Have a martini. Depressed? There's a still waiting for him in the tent. Missing Trapper? What's going to happen to his liver if he has just one more drink? Maybe homemade gin wasn't the perfect thing to have while developing a cold, but at least he wouldn't feel anything while drunk.

Father Mulcahy sat on Hunnicutt's cot with his hands folded in his lap. He watched Hawkeye pour the drink and fought to keep himself from getting involved. The surgeon got very touchy when someone mentioned his (severely unhealthy) drinking habits. He deserved to be able to kick back and relax somehow, but the priest didn't want Hawkeye to end up making himself sicker in the long run. He knew what alcohol could do to people. It ruined his parents and made his and his siblings' lives miserable. It haunted him still.

Hawkeye was rarely angry while sober, let alone while drunk. Francis knew that, but he couldn't help but worry. It must've been obvious because Hawkeye began to hassle him over it. "Hey, I will admit that I'm no Rita Hayworth, but I don't deserve that look."

"What?" The Father looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just got a little caught up in my, well, mind."

"Want a drink?"

"No, I'd rather not. In fact you probably shouldn't be drinking either," He took the glass from the surgeon's hands.

"Hey!"

"You should take care of yourself while you're sick. Unless you want to meet Him soon." His references to God always made Hawkeye shiver.

"Just one drink won't hurt."

"Can't you just wait until you're better? It'll give your liver a rest."

"For you, Father, for you.”

Hawkeye couldn’t resist. He knew why the priest acted so weary around alcohol. He did indulge in some during celebrations, but he usually never got drunk. Pierce would do anything for him, even if it meant not drinking alcohol and feeling something. He did feel something in that moment. Love, admiration, and pity all at the same time. He loved Mulcahy, he admired him for being such a pure human being, and he pitied him for missing out on many joys. One day he’d convince him to let loose and to give himself up to temptation. 

Without the gin he was feeling everything. His sinuses were stuffed already and he had an aching headache. He needed to sleep, but he didn’t want to sleep away the time he had with Francis, and resisted for as long as he could. Of course he didn’t succeed. His eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep within minutes, leaving the other man alone and confused as to whether or not he needed to go or not.

Hawkeye, when not being affected by the war, was a peaceful sleeper. Looking past the night terrors and sleepwalking that had occurred that could be shown. He hugged a pillow to his chest and his hair fell over his face, leaving only part of his stubble to be seen. He hardly had time to shower, let alone shave, most of the time. Most people expected them to look like professionals, but Colonel Potter never cared, neither did their former Commanding Officer, Henry Blake. Frank Burns certainly did, but he was gone and couldn’t bother anyone about it from Indiana. Besides, Hawkeye made it look good. He also had several excuses as to why he didn’t, but that wasn’t on Mulcahy’s mind.

“How beautiful...” He muttered without thinking and stood up. He pressed a hand to Hawkeye’s forehead for a second and resisted the urge to kiss him in the same spot before rushing out to his own tent.

He regretted his decision. His feelings got stronger and he knew he did it to himself, but he was still shocked by how much it affected him. He felt like an imbecile, a heretic. He was not only disappointing the Church, but God himself for these feelings. He could just smell the blue discharge coming his way. How would his sister the Sister react? She was the only family close to him. He’d be jobless and alone all because he let himself stray a little. 

“That’s not who you are, Francis. You do not have feelings for a man.” He repeated those words over and over, each time his voice cracked more until he eventually broke into pained sobs. The guilt ate at him and left him terrified, shaking and crying like a child. It was pathetic. 

How could Hawkeye react if he confessed? He couldn’t possibly do it face to face. He’d need to write a letter. A letter would be perfect. He wouldn’t see the reaction, he’d have to read it if he insisted that the surgeon wrote back instead of confronting him. The idea felt genius to him. So genius, in fact, that he was able to gather himself and begin working on it.


	3. Three

The priest slouched over a piece of paper with a pencil in hand and a bottle of wine at his side. At that point he couldn’t resist having a drink and besides, it was far better than drinking the gin Hawkeye and B.J. made in their still. It made him a hypocrite, sure, but at least he could be alone for it and not around others. He had a slippery tongue and drinking wouldn’t make it any easier.

It was harder to write down his feelings than he expected. He’d never been good with writing speeches, he came up with them on spot, but this was different and he still struggled. He wouldn’t need to say these words out loud unless Hawkeye wanted him to. That thought made him relax. It actually helped. Either that or his low tolerance for alcohol was beginning to kick in. It didn’t matter because he found the words and began writing:

* * *

 

_Dear Hawkeye,_

_I could easily take the time to tell you all of this in person, but right now that seems impossible. Just thinking of how you'd react or what you'd say frightens me. You're one of the nicest—no, you are the nicest person I've ever met and I still can't do this face to face. Forgive me if this seems rather long. It's something I've ~~wanted~~ needed to tell you for quite some tims and I'm unfamiliar with how to handle these things, so I will include a lot of details. _

_I've had feelings for girls before. You know that. I've told stories of the rounds of "Spin the Bottle" I played as a boy. I have been kissed before despite what many people think of me. I'm a priest so I must be completely clueless. I'm a celibate, not a ninny. I've just never been in love before. I have a feeling that that's what I'm experiencing now. How they describe it in the movies is completely different. I guess it's becsuse this whole thing is unorthodox and not just because I'm a priest._

_It's not a nurse or a Korean civilian or a Red Cross aid. It feels different to anything I've felt towards women. I'm back to being a scared schoolboy—unable to express my feelings. That's why I'm writing this to you, Hawkeye._

_Both the guilt and shame are eating me up and I've cried countless times. I tried to force myself into replacing my thoughts of you with thoughts of the nurses. It feels so wrong with them, but even with my shame everything feels right with you. I can't even think of kissing a woman anymore. When I try, you replace the image and I fall apart. It is ruining me both mentally and physically. I can barely stand eating because I feel so wrong._

_I'm not supposed to have these thoughts at all. Not about men or women, but especially not men. The Lord is probably cursing down at me. I'm a disgrace to the Church and to the American army and I know it. I know it, but that doesn't change my feelings. Even when I try to deny them, I know that they're real and true and that I can't fight them._

_Hawkeye, I love you._

_I am deeply in love with you._

_Deeply, madly in love with you._

_I am the Hephaestion to your Alexander the Great. You are the warrior of my dreams and I would do anything to protect you and I hope to God you feel the same way even though deep down I know that's highly unlikely. The way you look at the nurses is with pure lust and need. You don't look at me like that. You see me as just "Father Mulcahy" and not a man or just as Francis._

_I've committed so many sins, Hawkeye, and they aren't just regular sims. They're the deadly ones. I lust after you. Just your presence in my dreams at night is intoxicating. I envy the women you take to the supply tent and for the way you look at them, the way you flirt with them and tease them. I'm greedy. I just want you to be mine and for me to be yours. And you can bet that I'm angry. I'm angry that I let this happen to myself. I'm angry that I can't bottle up these feelings. I'm angry that we can't be together. I'm angry that I'm being punished this way. It hurts too much and I can't take it any longer. It's a miracle I haven't gone AWOL yet._

_I will admit that I've indulged in a little more wine than I should have while writing this. At first it was to relieve the pressure, to relax, but I've continued. I should stop writing now before I say anything else I regret. Please don't confront me. This letter should be proof enough that I couldn't handle looking into your eyes after confessing all of this to you._

_Thank you, though. Thank you if you took the time to read this and aren't angry._

_And I'm sorry if you're angry with me or disgusted. I couldn't blame you._

_Sincerely,_

_Francis_


	4. Four

Being rejected by nurses kept him going. He thrived on rejection, or at least from women. If rejected by men anything could happen. They could report him, beat him, and/or kill him. That was one of the many things that frightened Hawkeye. With his feelings for the priest being there he couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad the imagine would be. Not just from the priest, but from God himself.

Why did he suddenly care about God? He was never religious. His parents didn’t force it on him. Not even the Chaplain forced religion down the throats of those in the 4077th. But it was the Chaplain he loved. Father Mulcahy was a man of the cloth and Hawkeye felt guilty for wanting to make him stray from that. He felt guilty for wanting more things than he could give, but he still wanted those things. He couldn’t change his mind and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t distract himself.

”Wake up, Hawk.”

”Huh? What?” Hawkeye’s eyes shot open. “Any wounded?”

”No, and even if there were you wouldn’t be coming. You’ve been mumbling in your sleep.”

”What about?” Curiosity struck him as he had woken up in a cold sweat.

“Something about Mulcahy. It was probably a fever dream,” B.J. placed the back of his hand on Hawkeye’s forehead. “You are a little warm, my friend.”

”I’m fine.”

”if you didn’t have a pulse I’d have thought you were a ghost. Just admit that you aren’t feeling well. They were right for saying doctors don’t make very good patients.” 

”Alright, alright. I don’t feel well.”

”Now here’s something the good Father wanted me to give you. It’s something for you to read while I hit the showers,” The mustached surgeon handed over an envelope.

The dark-haired surgeon sat up and looked at the handwriting. His name was written sloppily, but that didn’t matter. He cared more about the contents. Why was the Father writing him instead of talking to him? Was he leaving “ _No, don’t be stupid. He’d tell you in person if he was_ ,” He thought and opened the emvelope as neatly as possible. He’d want to put the letter back in later.

He couldn’t believe what he was reading. He had to read and reread everything about a dozen times to make sure he wasn’t delusional. He already had fever dreams while sick. Who knew how far they could go? But this was next level. The letter was a confession. Father Mulcahy shared the same feelings. It wasn’t at all one-sided. That made Hawkeye want to jump from bed and kiss the man’s face a million times, but the other man asked him kindly to just write back. He didn’t want to frighten him, so he decided to do just that. Things were going to be slow, but at least he didn’t feel alone.

He snatched paper and a pen from B.J.’s things and began working on the letter.

* * *

 

_Dear Francis,_

_I’m not angry with you. Well, at least not for that reason. I’m angry because you couldn’t tell me in person. I’m no saint and I don’t really have the right to judge people for who they’re attracted to, so you could tell me anything. Especially something like this. I’ve been driving myself crazy thinking about how I’d tell you and there you go doing it first! I’m not angry about that, I’m just upset I didn’t think of the letter thing first._

_I love you too and I don’t think I’ve been able to really admit that to myself yet, but now here I am. I love you. I’m glad this isn’t one-sided because frankly I was terrified. I think of you a lot in the ways you think of me only I don’t fight them. The only person you’ve replaced in my mind is ~~Trapper~~ a certain other Captain that never said goodbye. I’ve always felt comfortable with my sexuality, but you know that. You’ve been a part of my jokes many times._

_Ever since I was a kid I knew I wasn’t like theboys I hung out with. I went to the theater, not to see the beautiful women on screen, but to see the men. I love women, I always have, but I prefer men. They rarely disappoint, plus it’s dangerous and exciting (you may think that my middle name is Franklin, but it’s actually Danger.) I’ve had my fair share of experiences with them and now there’s you. I was afraid I’d be asking for too much if we ever did find each other like this. Now my uncertainty has lost the “un” and you are, once again, the only thing I can think of._

_Apparently I spoke in my sleep about you. B.J. told me it was just a fever dream and I can’t really remember it, but I guess that proves that this is something real. Something so real we can’t hide it from each other or ourselves. I know it must seem difficult, but we do have each other and I will be there for you whenever you need me. Just say the word and I’ll be there._

_And while we’re at calling each other by first names I’ll give you special permission to address me as ‘’Ben’through letter or when we’re alone in person. We can write as long as you want, but I’m ready to talk if you want that now._

_Thank you for this._

_Love,_

_Ben_


	5. Five

_I can see, no matter how near you'll be_

_You'll never belong to me_

_But I can dream, can't I?_

_Can't I pretend that I'm locked in the bend of your embrace_

_For dreams are just like wine and I am drunk with mine_

Hawkeye borrowed one of Margaret's records since she owed him for something. He couldn't remember what for exactly, but he remembered enough to get the record. He was drunk on gin and Charles was on duty in post op. It'd been days since he got the letter to Father Mulcahy and there was no reply. In fact, the priest wouldn't even look him in the eyes or stand in a room alone with him. As soon as the others left he'd make up an excuse and go. B.J. left for R&R so Hawkeye couldn't talk to him and no one else would understand.

_I'm aware that my heart is a sad affair_

_There's much disillusion there_

_But I can dream, can't I?_

_Can I adore you although we are oceans apart?_

_I can't make you open your heart_

_But I can dream, can't I?_

Normally he wasn't interested in love songs unless he was singing them to the nurses, but he hadn't fully recovered from his illness and got drunk against everyone's wishes, including Father Mulcahy's. He played the song on repeat, singing along to the lyrics as he poured drinks. "What on earth are you listening to on my record player?" Charles came in and Hawkeye raised his head.

"Don't you turn off the Andrews Sisters," He waved his glass around. "

_I'm aware my heart is a sad affair_

_There's much dis-illusion there_

_But I can dream, can't I?_

_Can't I adore you although we are oceans apart?_

_I can't make you open your heart_

_But I can dream, can't I?_

_I can dream, can't I?_

"Absolutely not!" Charles turned it off. "Did one of your lady friends refuse you or are you just really missing Dr. Hunnicutt?"

"It's really none of your business, Charles," He slurred his name and dragged it out longer than usual. The balding surgeon took the glass from his hands and shook his head.

"You are an imbecile."

"Oh, buzz off."

"You've been lying around this pigsty for days and you haven't given yourself the chance to get better because you're drinking yourself to death. Pretty soon we'll be drowning in wounded and you are wallowing in self pity over some stupid nurse."

"It isn't some stupid nurse."

"Then what is your problem, Pierce?" Hawkeye sat up and snatched the glass back. He took one swig and finished it. "Oh, don't tell me the story. I don't want to hear it. I'll send for Father Mulcahy."

"No! Not him. I'll only talk to Beej. He comes back tomorrow."

When B.J. arrived Major Winchester had to beg him to stop and talk to Hawkeye before going for coffee. His hungover friend had his head buried under a pillow and his legs halfway off the cot. Clearly he had a rough night. "I've never seen him like this before."

"Last night he was singing along to the," The major shivered. "Andrews Sisters while drunk off of gin."

"Hawk, it's me," Hunnicutt knelt down beside him and pulled the pillow off. The result was a groan and Hawkeye finally opening his eyes.

"I'll leave you two alone."

"What's been going on?"

"You know, the usual."

"You look terrible," B.J. helped him sit up. "I heard you wanted to talk to me."

"I was drunk."

"Still. A lot of truth can come out of a drunk man."

"Fine," He reached down and opened up his footlocker to show him the letter.

"What's this?" B.J. looked at the envelope.

"Read it." B.J. opened up the letter and scanned. Wrinkles formed on his forehead as he furrowed his brows. "I wrote one back and he—he never came to talk to me."

"Tricky situation," Hunnicutt chewed on his bottom lip.

"You're the only person I can talk to about these things."

"A priest, huh?" He looked up and smiled to lighten up the mood, but Hawkeye didn't return it. "You actually have feelings for him, don't you?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it's not like you, Hawk. I mean I've seen you head-over-heels for women, but you never got this bad."

"This is completely different."

"It's really not. You love who you love, whether it's a nurse or a priest. It doesn't matter. Don't let it affect the way you behave and don't let it prevent you from getting better. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No—I don't want to bother—would you?"

"Of course," He patted Pierce on the back and wandered towards the Major's record player to see if what he said was true. "Where did you even get this?"

"Margaret."

"Come on, I'll take you for coffee and you can return this."

"What? You don't like the girls?"

"I do, but I don't want to hear you ruining their songs. I'm sure LaVerne, Maxene, and Patty wouldn't like to hear their songs being ruined by a drunken surgeon," B.J. raised his brows and Hawkeye gasped. "What? You're pretty like them, but you don't have the talent."

"I'll take that as a compliment," The man pulled on his pants and followed his best friend to the mess tent.

"What's it today?" Hunnicutt asked Igor as he slapped food into their trays.

"No, don't tell us. I want to imagine it's lobster." Igor rolled his eyes and Hawkeye headed towards the table Colonel Potter sat at.

"What'd you do in Tokyo, son?"

"Slept. A lot. I also sent some toys back home for Erin." Hawkeye yawned at the lack of surprise in the story. B.J. had always been a little boring. He loved him to death, but with Trapper he at least didn't have to talk about his wife and family all the time. He didn't hate B.J. for that and he certainly didn't hate his family, he just wanted juicier stories like the ones he told. B.J. was a loyal husband (excluding the one time he did cheat on his wife) and father who just wanted to express that.

In the end, Hawkeye wished he could be the same way. He wished he could see himself settling down with a woman and having children, but he couldn't. B.J. was normal, even Trapper was a little normal. Trapper didn't really care about the romantic part of the relationship, he was in more for the sex. He treated Hawkeye the same way they both treated nurses. Hawkeye couldn't get a man off his mind once he started something with him and that tormented him. He wanted nothing more than to bring a girl home to his dad and make him proud. He just couldn't.

He knew that Father Mulcahy wouldn't treat him terribly and wouldn't judge him for actually showing his emotions because he was the same way. If only their relationship wasn't such a problem to everyone else. The married (former) Major Frank Burns and Major Houlihan hardly hid their relationship and they weren't hated for that reason. They were hated for being snobbish and for acting like rats. Of course Margaret changed since Frank left, but it still left many questions on Pierce's mind.

Why couldn't two men be in love? Or two women at that? What was so unnatural about it? Even if Francis wasn't a priest it'd still be considered disgusting and they couldn't confide in many people about their relationship. They couldn't openly hold hands or touch in any ways considered flirtatious. Hawkeye did have a pass for those things, bough. He was the jokester of the 4077th. He did many questionable things that no one ever questioned for that reason, but it wasn't the same if it was meant as a joke or just to get on Colonel Flagg's nerves.

He didn't mean it as a joke now. Hawkeye loved another man. He wanted to kiss another man. He wanted to touch another man. He wanted to make love to another man. He wanted to do all of that without fear of being kicked out of the army with a blue discharge tattooed on his record. That could prevent him from getting anywhere. He'd end up worse off than the B-girls he often joked about and the fear of what his father would say crippled him.

"You've been staring at that fork for ten minutes, Hawk. Didn't your parents ever teach you that staring's rude?" B.J. nudged him, bringing him out of thought.

When he looked up he saw Father Mulcahy entering.


	6. Six

He should've been happy.

The letter brought only good news to him. The relief was only temporary. He loved Hawkeye and Hawkeye loved him. He should be happy, ecstatic, jumping with joy, but he cried. His feelings were too confusing and he couldn't tell what to do. The surgeon was already talking about them meeting up in person about it and Francis couldn't go through with that. Even after Hawkeye made joke after joke, he admitted to feeling guilty. That angered Francis because he had nothing to feel guilty for.

Hawkeye wasn't a priest and no one expected him behave like one. He flirted with everyone he met, got into bed with anyone who'd take him, and everyone knew that. He could live freely and didn't worry constantly if he was in over his head or useless. Francis did and every night he cried over it. He'd write to his sister the Sister about it, then he'd cry. He thought about leaving priesthood, but that meant going home to Philadelphia where he was even more useless. Religion helped him through the roughest times in his life, but at the same time he went against it and fell into temptation.

Hawkeye took over his dreams and even more than usual now that he recognized his feelings. He hadn't had dreams like that since he was a college boy, still trying to figure out if he priesthood was his best option while his friends told him stories of their secret parties and get-togethers with girls. He was just as confused then as he was now, but only it felt easier then because he hadn't committed his entire life to religion yet and hadn't found Hawkeye.

When he didn't dream of Hawkeye he was having nightmares that resulted in him having to repeat prayers. He'd sometimes even wake up screaming them. He slept with his Bible tucked under his arm instead of on the bedside table. He was just lucky the war slowed down and they decided to stop killing each other for a few days because he couldn't get any sleep and wouldn't last five minutes in OR. Unfortunately the lack of casualties meant Captain Hunnicutt could leave for R&R and that left an unsupervised Hawkeye. Unsupervised Hawkeye terrified Francis.

At breakfast he refused to sit with the surgeon by choice. When he had to sit with him he didn't look up from his tray much and spoke in a soft tone. In the line for food he faced forward and spoke only to Igor, ignoring the jokes. No one seemed to notice, at least he didn't think anyone did, because they went on normally. Hawkeye was usually the only one who ever noticed and just like that he was back in the cycle. " _Is this how the nurses feel_?" He often wondered when he wasn't wallowing in guilt.

The nurses. They got more of Hawkeye than he probably ever would. He wished he could ask them questions, but lacked the confidence and didn't want to scare them away. They'd wonder why he was so curious and he couldn't risk that. Word travelled fast around such a small place and things between nurses spread much quicker. " _Good morning. What's Captain Pierce like in bed, Nurse? I'm curious for my own priestly reasons."_ He couldn't help but laugh at how stupid that sounded and once he realized what he was thinking it felt like an elephant was sitting atop his chest.

He counted the days until B.J. came back. He couldn't handle much more of Hawkeye behaving so strangely. When he wasn't around his Hunnicutt he failed to control himself. He drank way too much, lost himself in the alcohol and in a nurse, and only got himself sicker than before. He refused to leave The Swamp and pleaded with them to just have Charles check on him every few hours. That didn't prevent him from drinking and though it worried the Father, he turned the other cheek. He couldn't get involved or he'd do or say something that would ruin them.

Francis had a nightmare the night before the Captain came back from Tokyo. One of the worst ones yet. "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love—!" He woke up yelling this prayer. He was drenched in sweat and clutching the cross hanging from his neck with tears dripping down his cheeks.

When he finally got his heart to stop racing and his breathing normal he could hear the faint sound of music coming from the direction of The Swamp. He knew because he had plenty of sleepless nights when Major Winchester and the two captains bickered. He could tell the music being played was from Hawkeye because B.J. went to Tokyo and Major Winchester only listened to classical music. That knowledge somehow calmed him and he shut his eyes.

"—I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen," He finished the prayer in a mumble.

He woke up a little later than usual. It didn't matter because he was up early enough for breakfast but late enough catch an ice cold shower. Cold showers woke him up and also kept his mind off of Hawkeye. He just despised the awkward conversation others tried to make with him as he tried to wash himself. Especially when the other person was someone as boring as Major Winchester. "What, the Book not end the way you wanted it to?"

"I haven't been able to sleep well lately,” He chose to ignore the humorless joke.

"Neither have I. I never thought I'd say this, I missed Hunnicutt. At least Pierce is tolerable when he’s around.”

"I could hear the music last night," Francis chuckled. He loved to see an annoyed Charles.

"At least our beloved Hunnicutt is back. I ran to him this morning and you know how I feel about running—I hate it."

"Did he enjoy himself in Tokyo?"

"I haven't a clue, Father. I just wanted him to get Pierce under control. I have no need for anything else."

"Right," The Father dried himself off and put on his robe before rushing out of there. He couldn't stand talking to him for more than a few moments. Charles insulted him left and right, obliviously sometimes, and then tried to defend himself with outrageous excuses. At least with Frank Burns it was on purpose and he was fun to make fun of. Frank wasn't spoiled by money and privilege though he tried to make it out like he had been. He was spoiled more by the government.

Back in his tent he opened up the Bible and gazed at the letter from Hawkeye. If he could only come up with a reply he could slip it to Hawkeye at breakfast.

 _Dear ~~Hawkeye~~ Ben_ ,

That was as far as he could get. He couldn't remember anything he wanted to say, so he gave up and got dressed in his fatigues and a black t-shirt then placed his straw hat on his head. Once outside he stopped for a moment to look up at the sky with his hands clasped. “I usually don’t pray for things like this—well, maybe I do, but usually not for myself. I just want today to be normal. Please.”

No one said anything when they saw him praying outside. That seemed normal for a priest to do and they thought he was just worrying about casualties that day or about something with his sister the Sister. A few corpsmen nodded politely as he walked past, but he didn’t pay any attention. He avoided looking at others and tried to keep his head down as much as possible, but the gimmick wouldn’t last since he was naturally a kind person. And of course it failed because as soon as he had his tray he heard Captain Hunnicutt's voice asking:

"Father, why don't you sit with us?"


	7. Seven

"Father, why don't you sit with us?"

"Why thank you, my Son," Mulcahy sat down beside B.J. and across from the dark-haired surgeon that taunted him in his dreams. "How was Tokyo?"

"Oh, don't get him started, Father," Hawkeye groaned and for the first time they could make eye contact without finding an excuse to look away.

"He sent his family gifts. Pierce is just not used to being around family men," The Colonel chuckled.

Francis hesitated before bringing up the surgeon Captain Hunnicutt replaced. "Ah, yes, I can believe that. Our dear Trapper was hardly a serious family man—not that that's a bad thing of course."

"Hey, it's the truth," Hawkeye shrugged, not even wincing at the sound of the captain's name. He couldn't deny that fact. Hawkeye was the main reason Trapper wasn't a serious family man. Between their sleeping around with nurses and sleeping around with each other he couldn't fit in a lot of time to think seriously about his wife. He thought about his daughters a lot and talked about them. Hawkeye never got used to that and they argued about it a lot.

"Having a family was one of the best things I ever did. Mildred runs things while I'm away and keeps me going. Even when I'm halfway across the world." Hawkeye sighed at the Colonel's rambling, but still listened. "Think about it, Pierce."

"I've got my family—my dad back home and the lovely nurses in Korea." He was getting good at pretending to be happy. At least he was half-pretending because Beej's offer did make him feel a little better.

"If it makes you feel any better, Peg says she'd love to meet you," B.J. butt in. What he said was true. He wrote about Hawkeye a lot,naturally, as they were best friends. B.J.'s friends became Peg's friends and she was dying to meet the man who kept her husband sane in Korea.

That fact didn't bring anymore comfort to Hawkeye. He hated the idea that you needed to find a wife, have children, and become serious to be happy. Perhaps he was biased because of his current situation, but it still bothered him that people believed that was the only way to achieve true happiness. Most marriages ended up being a sham. His parents were an exception, but the evidence existed. Just taking one look around the compound could prove that point.

For Hawkeye to be truly happy he'd need to be able to be open. To be able to be open and free about who he loved. He didn't need a phony marriage, but the occasional company of men and/or women. That is, if he couldn't have Francis. If he could have him he'd want to spend the rest of his life with him. He'd want to wake up every day with the short man lying beside him and to be able to hold his hand in public without people making a scene. That future he wanted was just like a dream only he couldn't picture it. He knew he wanted it but he couldn't imagine a world where that was possible.

After Father Mulcahy finished eating they dumped their trays together with B.J. and began to walk towards their tents. They had nothing to do with the lack of casualties so they walked as slowly as possible. That's when B.J. took the chance to speak up for them. "Are you two ever going to talk about this? I mean, if you want the tension to disappear you have to make an effort."

"What on earth are you talking about?" The Father played coy.

"I don't know, what do you think I'm talking about?"

"Beej—" Hawkeye grimaced and watched as his friend ran off to the Swamp. He was left with the priest, alone, in front of his tent.

"Would you like to come in?"

"If it's alright with you, Father."

"Francis," He corrected him and gave his best smile then led him inside.

"Listen, if you're not ready to talk about this we don't have to."

"I'm not," He held the cross around his neck, sitting down at his desk. "but we can't put it off anymore. I'm sorry I've been avoiding you."

"I don't blame you. I'm not very fun without B.J. around."

"It's not that. Well, not only because of that. It has to do with more of the religion thing."

"Do go on, _Francis_." The surgeon put emphasis on the other man's name and in a way it made the situation a little less tense.

"Frankly, Ben, I'm terrified. I have nightmares, I wake up screaming prayers, and I don't know what to do. Even if I do have feelings for you it goes against everything I've made for myself and I'm just afraid this will be the wrong choice. When I'm desperate for you I find myself contemplating renouncing my priesthood but I'd end up back in Philadelphia because that means my job here is done. When I'm desperate for the Lord's help I pray more but the nightmares come back and I feel guilty because I still want you!"

"Hey, this isn't easy on me either."

"You're not a religious man, you don't have to deal with this kind of guilt. And you've been with men before. You've known for so long..."

"No, I don't, and I can't say that I've tried to deny my own feelings. That'd be a lie. I do understand that it's hard because you feel like the world is against you. When you love someone like this it isn't easy. Even if you've had those relationships before. Trapper? He was nothing compared to you. I loved him but he didn't love me back, but you do. We have each other to lean on and I've gotten pretty good at hiding these things. No one would even bat an eye if I suddenly swooped in and kissed you on the mouth in front of everyone."

"It's not so much the hiding that scares me."

"You're afraid of going to hell, burning because you gave in to temptation, but let me tell you something—there's really nothing that says this is wrong. I've been down that road a lot and I haven't found a single piece of evidence that backs up the fact that this is wrong. And you can just wait to renounce it when the war is over. It won't look as fishy and you'll still be here with me."

"I don't think we could be together now."

"Why not?" Hawkeye placed his hand on the shorter's man cheek and Francis shut his eyes.

"I can't be with anyone if I'm still a priest."

"That's why we sneak around! You have plenty of time to think about this. Maybe this war will never end."

"Don't say that," The priest opened his eyes again and pointed at the chair propped up against the wall. Hawkeye sat down and rested his elbows on his knees.

"We can wait until you're ready, but I can't make any promises about not going with nurses."

"I'm not going to deny you the right to enjoy yourself." It pained him to say that.

"Before I go, can I ask you something?" The Father nodded. "What kind of prayers do you have for kisses?" Pierce asked in the flirtatious tone he spoke in while talking to the nurses. In fact he was giving the same looks too and Mulcahy couldn't help but blush.

"It depends on what you mean."

"I mean what prayer do you recite to get that special someone to kiss you."

"I think you're just supposed to ask." He knew where this was going and he was excited. A blushing, nervous wreck, but still excited to finally have Hawkeye's lips on his.

"Can I practice on you?" He didn't wait for the response because he knew from the look on his face that it was what Francis wanted. "How's this sound—can I kiss you?"

"I don't think the nurses could resist that."

"You're supposed to say 'yes, Hawkeye.'"

"Yes, Hawkeye." The space between them was filled as the surgeon cupped his face and pressed his lips to his. He didn't want that kiss to end, but it did. At least it resulted in a couple winks and a toothless smile from Hawkeye.

"I'll see you around, Father."

"Right," He watched as he left. " _In my dreams maybe."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates may be slow after this week :-( school calls


	8. Eight

Hours every night were spent in the supply tent with nurses. Whatever alcohol they could get their hands on was brought and the mixture numbed Hawkeye entirely. He needed the distraction, though he rarely got it because he got turned down a lot. The fact that he thrives on rejection helped him and eventually he got a regular thing going with one of them.

Every other night he met with Nurse Bigelow, they had a couple drinks, and before someone needed to get into the tent they went straight to business. They kept it casual and didn't talk about their feelings. Hawkeye didn't have any for her and she didn't have any for him, or at least he hoped she didn't. Half the time he was too drunk to focus on anything, the other times he let himself think about Francis. A sober Hawkeye would need something good to get off and thinking about a certain Chaplain did just the trick.

Nothing changed in the OR. Hawkeye has always been openly flirting with the nurses and Francis knew what eventually happened after those sessions. Now that he discussed his feelings and even got a kiss from the surgeon he felt even more jealous than usual. Even though he did give him permission to do it. He got so jealous he was almost angry. He watched quietly as Hawkeye wrapped his arm around Bigelow's waist and whispered something in her ear. The priest wanted that for himself. He wanted Hawkeye. He wanted to risk his priesthood for the man. He finally made his decision.

"Father, over here! He isn't gonna make it," Hunnicutt called for him. The wounded men kept pouring in and the doctors needed to make time for the ones they could actually save. They couldn't waste time on the ones who barely had a chance if the men kept coming in as morbid as it sounded. 

He gave the last rites quietly and went to the operating room with everyone after getting a mask over the lower half of his face. "Suction," Hawkeye said to a nurse and Francis wandered up and down the room to check on everyone.

"How ya holdin' up, Father?" B.J. asked as he cut into one of the men. He glanced up for a few moments to catch the chaplain's gaze.

"Don't mind me," He replied and gave a gentle smile to show the surgeon he was alright. B.J. went back to work and Francis continued pacing. He planned on talking to Hawkeye after this session and he wanted to have time to think about what exactly he'd say. This needed to be delicate, but straightforward.

Twelve hours of meatball surgery later and he still wasn't ready. They were all exhausted and not really in the mood for serious discussion, but Francis couldn’t stand to watch Hawkeye leaving with the nurse again. The surgeon already his eyes on her so Mulcahy needed to be quick. “Uh, Hawkeye, can I speak with you outside?”

“Meet me in the spot,” He mouthed to the nurse and turned to Mulcahy. “Of course, Father.” He didn’t want to show it, but Hawkeye was frustrated. He was tired and didn’t want to pretend that nothing happened between them. That meant he wanted to avoid Francis.

The weight was lifted from his chest when the shorter man spoke though. He needed to hear those words. “I’m willing to give this a try.”

“You’re serious? What brought that on?”

“Envy and wrath, Hawkeye, envy and wrath.”

“The thing with Nurse Bigelow—that didn’t mean anything,” He placed a hand on Mulcahy’s back. He wanted to reassure him and let him know the truth. He deserved that.

“Are you sure?”

“I think about you most of the time.” Wink. “I hope that at least makes you feel a little better.”

“It does.”

“Your place or mine, then?”

“I think it’s time you lie down,” Francis placed his hand on Hawkeye’s lower back the same way he’d seen him do with the nurses.

“Already want to get rid of me?”

“No, Ben, you’ve been in surgery for twelve hours.”

“One of my shorter shifts.”

“You still need to rest. We can talk later.”

“Who said anything about talking?”

“Oh dear.”

 

“Too soon?” The priest nodded. “Sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. I know you can’t resist a joke. Or me.”

“You know me so well.”

“Get some rest.”

“Nighty night,” Hawkeye smiled and kissed the man quickly before going into the Swamp.

For the first time in ages Hawkeye slept without the comfort of a nurse and gin. It could’ve been considered a miracle. B.J. certainly thought it was because he was pretty tired of seeing his best friend stumbling into the tent, drunk and pretending to be happy. It got tiring pretty fast. His attempt at getting them together made things worse, but he could tell that something happened between them now. Clearly, since Hawkeye fell asleep with a smirk on his face.

Nurse Bigelow, though upset she’d been stood up, accepted that after that shift they should just sleep things off. She was worried about Hawkeye’s well-being and had been since the start of the fling. He usually slept with a nurse once or twice and moved on. She certainty didn’t expect him to have feelings for her then, but she did wonder if they’d ever establish a relationship. She didn’t exactly like him that much, but with what they were doing she figured they could at least try. Then again just the thought of bringing up something so serious in front of him made her chuckle.

Father Mulcahy had temporary relief. He quit overthinking and read his Bible until he fell asleep and for the first time he hadn’t been reading it to seek reassurance. He didn’t read it to make sure his love wasn’t a sin. With other people he could brush it off because he knew God created people in His image and homosexuals were not an exception. He was so much harder on himself since he had to be a positive role model. Hawkeye always brought out the worst in him, but sometimes that worst turned to the best.

“Thank you, Hawkeye.”


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by 'The Predatory Wasp Is Out To Get Us!' by Sufjan Stevens

As colder weather approached everyone ordered their coats and other clothing for the  cold weather from the catalogs just in case they weren't supplied by the army. They never were. The army always managed to let them down in one way or another so no one chose to trust them at that point. They'd been in Korea for far too long. They were cold and hungry for something edible and tired. Tired of seeing so many kids dying. Tired of the meatball surgery. Tired of only having contact with their families through letters or short phone calls that end up cutting off.

At least now Hawkeye had something to live for nearby. For a while it was just his dad, thousands of miles away, but now he had Francis to look after him, though he did feel guilty for needing that. If it wasn't for him the surgeon m probably would have wandered into the minefield long ago. But he hasn't. He began to think more clearly now that he established a relationship with someone. One so real he even wrote to his loving, accepting father about it. He received nothing but praise and a 'thank God my son  _can_ settle down!'

The priest finally grew comfortable around Hawkeye as well. They spent nights together, made love, and lay in Francis's cot for hours afterward. They couldn't just meet in the supply tent and rush through it. This was something real and besides, no one questioned them about the time they spent together, but just in case they came up with an explanation together. They'd tell everyone that Hawkeye needed counseling. Of course that would only work for a short amount of time since they were together almost nightly. Hawkeye practically lived with him.

"What are you doing, Ben?" He heard Francis ask. He was half asleep, still undressed from hours earlier. Hawkeye had just gotten off from Post Op duty.

"Writing a letter to my dad, but I'll be there with you in a bit," He pulled off his scarf and began writing.

"I got a letter from my sister the Sister today."

"Oh, yeah?" He turned to look at the man. He had his hands over his face as he rubbed his eyes. He was clearly exhausted. "Tell me about it tomorrow, huh? Get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Hawkeye," He fell back into the bed, onto his stomach.

* * *

_Dear Dad,_

_I can finally understand why you never complained about the cold when mom was still alive. It's nice to have someone you love nearby during the winter. It isn't a Crabapple Cove winter, but it's something. Something that reminds me of home. It's just as cold, if not colder, and when it snows it's almost beautiful like home. Boy, do I miss Maine. Do you think Francis will like home? I talk to him about it all the time but he hasn't said a thing about it. Kinda worries me because I want you two to meet someday. Hopefully the war ends soon and you can! I think you'll love him, but then again you love everyone._

_He is a good man, dad. One of the best I know besides you and Beej. I often find myself wishing I was more like him. Soft-spoken, attentive, religious even, but who would Hawkeye Pierce be without his jokes? Nobody. Everyone loves my jokes. Maybe they wouldn't if we met back home in a regular hospital or something, but they do love them here and here is Korea. We didn't meet in a regular hospital. In a way it's good that this is how we all met. It gives us a bond different than any others. Don't get me wrong, though. I hate this war. I want it to end. I miss home._

_This letter is gonna be shorter than one's I've written before because I don't really know why I even began writing it. I just wanted to tell you a little more about my life now, I guess. I love you, dad. I hope to see you soon. Real Soon._

_Love,_

_Ben  
_

* * *

Hawkeye carefully placed the letter in an envelope and turned to see his sleeping lover. Something about seeing Francis in that state warmed his heart every time. He looked so alive throughout the death and horror they saw every day. He felt so alive too. So warm. The surgeon caressed his skin, carefully tracing shapes with his fingers, and kissed his shoulder. When he finally managed to climb into the cot he wrapped his long limbs around him. He could hear his slowed breathing and eventually drifted off, allowing his own to match as he slept. 

                                           

 


	10. Ten

As they lay in the cot that was much too small they entwined their fingers and listened to the shelling in the distance. The compound was unusually quiet, even for how late it was so they could hear it quite well, reminding them of the war going on around them. The tent was so filled with love and warmth they sometimes managed to forget the hatred that brought them together in Korea. If it wasn't for the war they most likely never would have met and for that, Hawkeye could admit he was thankful for. He hated war, he hated being in the war, and hated working in a hospital in the middle of the war, but he loved Francis.

Usually he wasn't the mushy type. There were the occasional times when he was nice to women he had feelings for, like Carlye for example, but when it came to men he never got the chance. He took it seriously when with Francis—someone who returned the favor. He could be gentle, soft, and let his guard down with the shorter man. It was comforting. It felt good to finally know that someone loved him back. He didn't have to be afraid to show affection.

"I love you, Ben." He loved to hear his name in that soft voice. The soft voice of his lover. His. Francis was all his. "How much longer do you think it'll last?"

"What'll last?"

"The war, Hawkeye. What else?"

"Well, I hope not too much longer. I'm starting to think I'm never getting home."

"Don't talk like that," The short man pulled his lover into his arms so his head rested on his chest. He ran his fingers through the dark hair and the surgeon hummed softly. He always liked when Francis played with his hair.

"It's hard not to when you've been here for so long."

"I'm sure it'll be over soon." Hawkeye scoffed and sat up. "Well, you could at least try to be positive."

"Sorry, but I quit doing that the minute I was drafted."

"Sometimes I wonder how we got here."

"Because you can't resist me. And you get jealous so easily." He couldn't resist cracking a joke. It only resulted in a typical eye roll from Francis and then the two of them falling into the cot together.

"Hawkeye!" The priest laughed as the surgeon began to kiss his neck.

"You're all mine. Mine, mine, mine," He mumbled after each kiss. He left the tiniest, lightest marks on his neck. Ordinarily Francis would scold him for it since their showers were anything but private. It felt too good though and Hawkeye wanted to let him know how he felt.

And he did know.

He loved the way Hawkeye claimed him. It was so new to him, yet so thrilling. He loved the new things Hawkeye showed and taught him and the way he treated him never failed to make him blush. He never saw the loving side of the surgeon until they actually got together, but he loved it. It made him feel so good. Loved for once and so human.

He didn't want to lose that feeling when the war ended. He knew Hawkeye would be going back home to Maine and he'd find himself back in Pennsylvania, where nothing of importance, other than his sister the Sister, awaited him. It was quite clear that after everything they'd never be the same again, but one thing he wanted to continue was their relationship. He didn't care how risky it'd be or how far they'd have to go to hide it. He wanted Hawkeye and he knew Hawkeye wanted him. That was that.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning?? Hawkeye’s still struggling after the incident on the bus and with life after the war.

The end of the war came sooner than either of them expected. A lot happened between them and now. Hawkeye lost it, Francis was basically deaf, and of course the peace talks finally went somewhere. They didn’t have much of a goodbye and they didn’t even have time to talk about the future of their relationship. Instead Hawkeye cracked a joke that the priest couldn’t even hear and patted him in the back while he struggled to come up with a proper response.

Now he was sat in a small apartment, unable to do his job properly, and drinking more than Hawkeye did back in Korea. He drank away the days, trying and failing to forget everything he saw. It was useless. The drinking only made him numb to it all. He could finally understand why Hawkeye drank so much, but he wanted to stop thinking about Hawkeye and drinking only increased the thoughts. Why did he still do it? He had no idea, but he couldn’t stop.

Meanwhile, back in Crabapple Cove Hawkeye was working for his father in his office until he was ready to go out and find work elsewhere. It still scared him after what happened. In fact, he barely made it the last few days in Korea, but he managed. He tried his best to remain stoic, but the nightmares caught up with him and he couldn’t sleep at night. He couldn’t drink himself silly like he did in Korea. He had to remain strong for his father. He didn’t want his dad to know how broken he really was, but he did know.

Daniel didn’t want Hawkeye to worry, but he did know about what happened and he hinted at it. Just hinted at it so he knew he could turn to his father for support. It wasn’t just what happened that night on the bus that kept him tense. It was what happened with him and Francis that began to eat at him. They never got the chance to make their plans. He was beginning to regret all the negative things he said and his talk about the war never ending because now he had a war of his own. One that no one but Francis could understand.

When he woke up he half expected BJ to be standing over him, telling him that he was needed in post op. He couldn’t admit it, but he was disappointed when he woke up alone, cold, and in his childhood bedroom. He wished he could just reach over and have a glass of the antifreeze he called gin from his still. He wished he could open the door and find Francis there, sitting at his desk and greeting him with a smile. He was so alone—no, he wasn’t, but it felt that way. His dad couldn’t possibly relate to him, or understand how empty he felt. Or maybe he could since he did lose his wife, Hawkeye’s mother. It still wasn’t worth the time. He couldn’t have his father worrying about him. He was a grown man. A grown man with greying hair.

To pass the time and to avoid sleeping he forced himself awake with coffee and wrote letters. Dozens of unsent letters sat atop his desk, all addressed to Francis. Ones that he’d never send and not just because he didn’t know where he was, but because he was afraid of what the replies would be like. Would things be over? Did he return to his faith completely, or did he hate Hawkeye for everything that happened between them? The good and the bad he swore he didn’t regret. Maybe he did regret it, or maybe Hawkeye was just overthinking. He tended to do that a lot.

“Son, are you listening to me?” He’d forgotten he was on the phone. “You aren’t yourself, you know.”

“Sorry, dad. Just a little out of it.”

“More than a little. I think you oughta see someone.”

“I see you every day.”

“Be serious Hawkeye. I meant someone who can help you, Hawk. A psychiatrist or someone like that.”

“I saw one back in Korea. A lot. I’m fine. I’m no more crazy than I was when I left.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think you’re having a hard time adjusting to life back at home.”

“Dad, I’m fine.”

He couldn’t tell a psychiatrist his problems. At least not one that wasn’t Sidney Freedman. Really, though, all he needed to make him feel at least a little better was a sign that Francis still loved him. A sign that what they had wasn’t over. He couldn’t handle another heartbreak like he had with Carlye and Trapper. Frankly, he really had lost it back in Korea and he was tired. Tired of everything.

He complained about Korea every second he was there and now he was longing to go back. Not because he loved war, but because he loved a man that he only met because of the war. He longed to go back to that stupid mess of a hospital and to see Francis and Beej and Margaret. They’d understand how he felt. They’d understand the struggle of living after those long, harsh years. Hell, even Charles would, though he wouldn’t want to talk to Hawkeye. Or really anyone from the 4077th if he didn’t absolutely have to.

The fact of the matter was that Hawkeye wasn’t the same anymore. Even if he was back in Korea with everyone he loved and cared about deeply. He was never going to be the same and he struggled to accept that fact. What happened changed everyone. No one could be the same after everything they saw and went through. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t go back to who they were before the war or even during the war. Hawkeye knew this, but still struggled to grasp the concept. He couldn’t admit it to his father, or to anyone, in fear of being called weak or even crazy. And not the good crazy everyone jokingly called him.

Crazy as in Frank-Burns-transferred-stateside crazy.


End file.
